Tyrant Desires
by Periaat
Summary: When a prisoner escapes, she knows Tala won't be happy.


**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Beyblade. No infringement of these copyrights is intended and is not authorized by the copyright holder. This story is for purely fan purposes and no money is being made from it. **_**Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living, dead, undead, cyber-kinetic or alive by other means, is entirely coincidental. Anything you recognize I don't own. All original characters/settings, etcetera I own unless otherwise noted. **_

**Tyrant Desires  
****By:**** Periaat **

"What do you mean she ran away?! It was your job—_your_ only job—to make sure she didn't escape. You better find her before Tala figures out she's missing!," Amelie screeched.

"Of course, miss."

Amelie slammed down the phone before she even heard dial tone and dropped back into her revolving chair. She massaged her temples to attempt to erase her aggravation. She tapped her manicured nails against her desk to devise a plan to solve this small problem. She wondered where common competency went in people these days. Maybe they erased that gene.

She sighed and paced around her small, well-furnished office. Her office was functional and she entertained very few quests. Her technical duties aside, there was very little need for anyone to meet with her. Tala as commander of the north approach required substantially more office needs. One such need: a huge office to entertain quests especially visiting commanders.

Amelie didn't need the space, like Tala reasoned as he built the facility, but a girl could dream. It reminded her of when she bought her first house over five years ago with Gerald, her husband at the time. The couple playfully fought over who got the larger closet in the master suite but Gerald finally acquiesced to her. The playfulness died when military units took Gerald away. She contemplated if Tala would do the same thing to that incompetent commander as Gerald. At the time, she hadn't been aware of the laws he broke while he claimed some higher purpose. In her opinion, he received the punishment he deserved for the laws her bore and Amelie couldn't forgive him for that.

Amelie grasped her large coffee cup with both hands and inhaled her favorite, French Vanilla. A luxury nowadays, but even more so, in white-out conditions this far north. Amelie grimaced when the coffee didn't burn her tongue and choked it down. She glanced at her gold rimmed watch—half way between five and six.

_I swear absolutely nothing functions when I want it to.  
_  
Amelie sank down into the small couch squeezed into her office and blew her lips out. Last night's security tapes hadn't yielded any pertinent information to recapture Laura Culbreth, the infamous journalist. The one person who still had the connections to expose to the Americans what was going on. Nobody loved a sob story like the Americans. Since Culbreth escaped, Amelie wanted to know all the details before Tala did.

Her brunette hair fell into the collar of her navy long sleeve polo.

Maybe if she recaptured Culbreth, or inmate Z-718492, she wouldn't have to dispose of another inmate as punishment in the frozen tundra somewhere beyond the camp. It was always a time-consuming chore and completely distracted her from her work. Tala insisted only he and her could know the exact location of the bodies in case the prisoners revolted or some crazy idea like that. The task usually took several hours to complete as Tala was unavailable to assist most the time due to more pressing matters.

Amelie relished reviewing the security tapes. They were a fun activity for her. She found most people thought it was tiring, but she loved it. Playing big-brother-in-the-sky had always been a childhood dream of hers.

The security tapes for high value prisoners took a few minutes to rewind back to yesterday because every movement they made was tracked unlike ordinary prisoners. Not wanting to waste time, she made to the kitchen to replace her now stale cup. Not a particularly long walk, but a cold one nonetheless Amelie realized as the sun had not yet rose. She strolled down the corridor and made a mental note to assign Victor to fix the drafty corridor.

The silence of the kitchen surprised her. It was unusual for anyone to not be in the kitchen as most people reported to work at this time. She found the coffee in the pot frigid and full of Nepalese. A peasant's choice. Slang Russian fell off her tongue. She ransacked the cupboards for any French Vanilla to satisfy her expectation. At last, on half empty bag of Kona Gold graced her coal-lined eyes and she grabbed it. It would do for now. She leaned her back against the marble countertops and tapped her fingers. She waited for it to brew.

Distantly she heard what sounded like combat boots repetitively stomping across the linoleum floor. Amelie inhaled. Tala was approaching probably in search of a through explanation while Amelie realized she needed to craft. She panicked. She thought quickly and tried to sound in control. Tala fell for her trickery sometimes but it all depended on how well she convinced him. She grimaced. The footsteps came closer.

Amelie held her breath hoping whoever it was—hopefully not Tala—passed by.

"Amelie...," A voice whispered on her ear.

Amelie turned quickly and showered her shirt in coffee.

"Ah…Damn." Amelie tried to shake some off but her shirt stuck to her body. She frantically searched for a towel to mop the excess liquid off her top.

"How unfortunate. I liked that shirt on you. It really filled you out," Tala smirked. "Here, let me help you." His gray sweater and camouflage pants remained coffee free.

"No...uh…I got it, "Amelie wasn't the only one nervous around her boss.

"I insist," Tala affirmed as he sopped up the wasted coffee. His blue eyes engaged in making sure he did a thorough job.

A little _too_ thorough Amelie thought. She was thankful she didn't opt for white today. She hated how she couldn't manage to say anything to him about how inappropriate she thought that gesture was. This job kept her alive and that in itself was a rarity these days.

"So," Tala refilled her tankard sized cup for the third time and poured a mug for himself. He, like Amelie, appreciated fine luxuries such as French Vanilla coffee only he preferred his with Russian Vodka—the best in the world—in his esteemed opinion. "Tell me about last night," Tala insisted coolly stirring his cup. He took a sip and looked at her like a predator might before pouncing and licked his lips.

Amelie swallowed an overflowing mouthful of coffee and burned her throat. She took a deep breath and began to speak.

**A/N—Let me know what you think of this.  
**


End file.
